Honesty
by StandingOnTheRooftops
Summary: Side-fic for Apathy. Reading Apathy is not needed to understand this, but it may help. Trinity POV. She's Duo and Wufei's daughter. Rated T for language and sexual themes. 2x5x2 mentioned, also 1x4x1 and others. Romance, adventure, family, friends, ect...
1. Chapter 1

_**Honesty**_

Sidefic in the Rhythm Emotion Cycle. This is just a _Trinity POV _story. It's the mission that's mentioned in the epilogue of Apathy. Very little in the way of our gundam boys, but please remember that the pairings mentioned will be 2x5, 1x4, 3xOFC. And of course, OCxOC. Reading Apathy, or any of the other stories is not needed, though it would be helpful. (And I would give you lots of huggles for reviewing it!)

Just remember that Trinity is Duo and Wufei's adopted daughter- and that she's an empath like Quatre.

Dedication: To everyone who loved and reviewed Apathy... this is for you!

Disclaimer: I don't own GW, not a bit. But Trinity (and Brandon) are my creations and if you'd like to use them, just ask because I have no trouble lending them out! ^_^

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_**Honesty**_

_**Chapter One**_

Empathy is a tricky thing. Trust me. As an empath- and more- I know this first hand.

Empathy, like everything else, has it's loopholes. Such as the fact that really talented people can shield their own emotions, or even project false ones. My Papa was one of the first types. He's learned to completely keep me out of his head when he wants to. Daddy's even better than that. He can usually project a false emotion. Make me think he's happy when he's really angry- things such as that.

But I haven't lived with him for so many years without learning a trick or two of my own. I can tell, with him at least, if the emotion is false or genuine and usually break past it to the truth. And right now, the calm acceptance and peaceful happiness he exuded reeked. It was about as natural as Uncle Heero doing the chicken dance and singing the 'macarena'. And that particular thing had happened just *once*, mind you....

"Stop it," I snap, trying to break that fake emotion, pushing will all my (considerable) mental force. But they're stronger than most, and the calm dosen't go away, but it cracks, and just a bit of extreme worry slips through.

"Stop it, you two," I repeat, but not as loud or angry. "It's not the end of the world. I'm a big girl now. I can take care of myself."

"We know that," Papa says soothingly, petting my hair. His obsidian eyes are really hard and usually cold, but he lets just a bare hint of his worry show through in them. "But you're still our baby girl. It will _always _worry us when you do things like this. We will accept it... you know that better than we do. But that doesn't mean we're going to like it. We're never going to like you going on these dangerous missions."

Some of my righteous anger simply bleeds away. I understand that. They'd seen me defenseless... and I've gotta say that's a pretty scary... and kinda depressing... thing. I reach out and wrap my arms around him. It's still a little surprising that at only seventeen, I'm taller than him. Not quite as tall as Daddy... but I'm still getting there. I'll probably outgrow Daddy within the year.

Apparently, I kinda hit the genetic lottery. I got uber-intelligence ( I'd finished advanced astrophysics by the time I'd hit puberty.) I got super-mutant new-type abilities. ( Like empathy, limited clairvoyance, a limited semi-telepathic skill, and other super-girl powers) And I got lucky in looks too. (As a skinny, short, tiny-for-her-age six year old, I'd been cute and angelic with curly light brown hair and big brown eyes. As a slender, athletically built teenager, I still had the curly hair, which, after long summers on Earth, is now a lighter, honey blond color, and longer, too... like, it reached to my thighs. I was tall, with beautiful amber eyes and yet I still looked much younger than I was.) You'd think I'd be ecstatically thrilled, but I'm just... not. When you have people who want to study you, people who want to kill you, and then people who just think you're weird... you kinda aren't in an ecstatically thrilled mood.

But at least I had my awesome fathers, always there to protect me. Even if I didn't always need that protection. As in... like, now.

"I understand, Papa. I do. But I want you to be happy for me. I like my job. You're the one who inspired me to join the Preventers. I'm good at this."

I'm the youngest person in the Preventers Agency. And I'm the youngest person to ever join. Papa was sixteen when he signed up. Uncle Ro was almost seventeen. I beat them both out by a few months. I enlisted- against my parents wishes- the day before my sixteenth birthday. So far, I've done pretty good. Because of my age- and her understandable fear of my parents, Une keeps most of my work easy and simple, but occasionally my unique abilities and upbringing qualify me for harder, more dangerous, missions. Like this one.

Four days ago, Brandon Carter- the twenty-four year old cousin of family friend and fellow Preventer Eric Hardy... and a genius in his own right... was kidnapped. We knew that they wanted him for his scientific mind and not just his money (The Carter's _were_ L3's most prominent family). And seeing as I was the only active Preventer with experience against his captors, I was automatically assigned as the one-woman rescue squad.

My parents had fought very hard when Tomas Delecroix had came up for parole five years ago. Because Papa had been there and heard when Tomas and his then commander Dee Bragnon had talked about, well, about raping me. Papa was pissed. So was I. Although Bragnon's death was entirely accidental; I hadn't meant to kill him.

Oh. Maybe I should mention that I was six at the time.

Yeah.

Remember the thing about people wanting to kill me? Safe to say that Tomas Delecroix was one of those people.

"You _are_good at this," Daddy said, his eyes sparkling with checked tears. He dropped all pretenses and I felt the worry and pride and mixture of emotions wash over me. I reach out and bring him into the hug, too, burying my face in his neck. I love them both so much. Nothing that anyone could tell me would ever convince me that they were not my parents. Genetics and Halliwell's be damned... I was Trinity _Maxwell_-Chang... and I always would be.

"I wouldn't go if I thought something bad would happen. Daddy, Papa. I need to go now," I say, my voice thick. I will not cry. I will not let them see my cry.

"Be safe, Trin," Papa whispers into my hair, kissing my head.

"And when you find that bastard Delecroix... kick his ass for me, kay?" Daddy asks with a lopsided grin.

I smile as I kiss his cheek and turn to leave. Trust Daddy to lighten the mood.

"Sure thing. Love you," I promise as I walk out of the orphanage that was my home. It's sort of a tradition in our family. Never say goodbye... and never make a promise you don't know if you can keep.

But I couldn't help but wonder as I got onto the sleek silver motorcycle and started it- heading for the space port. What if my newtype intuition was wrong? What if I died on this mission... and I'd never told them goodbye?


	2. Chapter 2

_**Honesty**_

_**Part Two**_

The shuttle I'm piloting is little bigger than an escape pod. With a state of the art cloaking device that my own daddy invented, it's pretty much undetectable, unless you're looking right for it and know what it is you're looking for. And all the gear I need is organized into a pretty regular sized back pack. I believe in 'going in light' as Papa calls it, when it come to gear. But I take after my Daddy in the personal protection department, though. Heavy. Very heavy.

Even as I sit alone in this shuttle, I've got a knife strapped both of my inside thighs- and one on each of the outside, a knife down each boot, several smaller knives and razors and lockpicks in my hair which is pulled back into a braid- another style borrowed from Daddy. And this isn't counting the visible weapons I have. Like the twin laser pistols residing in their shoulder harnesses, or the old fashioned Beretta ballistics gun tucked into the back of my waistband or the Russian Makarov on my hip. And not to mention the black eggs and various other weapons in my backpack, along with the laptop computer and handheld scanner. Yes. I do not believe that you can ever be over prepared... another trait I picked up from my Daddy.

The very first time I ever showed up for a solo mission- like this one- Commander Une just looked at me warily. At the few visible weapons, and the single backpack. Traveling lightly. But she knew better than to question me. I did have the advantage of being a newtype- a secret one, un-registered (that meant that very, very few people knew about my skill... so they didn't know that I could pretty much read their minds sometimes). And after all, everything I knew I'd learned from my parents. Both of them former Gundam pilots. One of them was an expert in explosives and infiltration, and one of them was the former top Preventers agent. (Is it bragging to point out that that spot now belongs to me? Nah. Didn't think so.)

All I got from Commander Une this time was a raised eyebrow, though other's insisted on commenting on my methods. But Commander Une was intelligent. She'd been around a bit... and she knew exactly what had happened eleven years ago on the space shuttle (shuttle? More like cruise liner!) 'Loralei'. She knew what I'd done. How I'd knocked out her top Preventers agent, how I hijacked a shuttle and chased down a yatch captured by space pirates. How I fought against the pirates and eventually rescued the crew- and my adopted uncle and another Preventers agent along with them. And I did mention I was only six at that time, right? Yeah. A six year old did all of that. Eh, well Papa helped me fight against the pirates, and I did kind of cheat knocking him out to actually get him to go along with me... and I sort of wasn't conscious when I left that ship- yeah, being shot does that to you. And I did have a few advantages over those pirates. First off... I was an empath with even more unusual powers. And even more importantly, my daddy had already taught me quite a bit of unorthodox things.

And that's why I'm on this mission now. Tomas Delacroix was one of those pirates. Quite frankly, I'm looking forward to giving him a piece of my mind. If he thinks the bullets I put in his leg the last time we met was painful, or that the home-made fog bomb thing that I set of in his hands was painful... he's got something else coming.

A soft beep emits from the console in front of me. I focus on the screen, my fingers flying over the instruments. This is it. I'm here. This is an old, abandoned part of a colony. It had been jetisoned years ago, during the war, when it was damaged. I really need to talk to Une about having things like this destroyed. Not good things to have falling into the wrong hands.

Now I've been over the blueprints we have for this part of the colony. Apparently they use the larger, emptier upper side as their shuttle bay, and the smaller, lower side as their, well, living quarters for lack of a better word ( though I doubt they were very habitable). My course of action would have me cutting through the thin outer hull of the docking bay, close to the living quarters. From there, I'd have to sneak my way through the entire place to the far bottom on the other side, which was supposedly where Brandon Carter was being held. We knew they wanted him to work on some mobile suit design they had. Crazy people. I really do hate crazy, stupid people.

After attatching my shuttle to the outside of their hull- kind of like a leech- it takes about half an hour for the specialized equiptment onboard to cut through the layers of metal. It's cool being a Preventer, sometimes; they have so many nifty devices and such.

Luckily for me, I've cut into a rather unused part of the complex. This all used to be part of the maintenance section of the colony; that's how it's survived so relatively intact and salvageable. Our hypothesis is that Carter is on the other side of the complex, in a re-enforced chamber once used to store hazardous chemicals and nuclear waste. I grab my pack and hide the traces of my entrance as well as I can before starting my trek. So far, so good.

Now if it'll just stay that way.

~*~*~*~*~

No such luck. Damn. I'd hoped to make it all the way to Carter before I actually ran into these people. I didn't believe I would, but it never hurts to hope.

I double back the way I come, ducking into a storage closet. Footsteps come closer, along with voices. I'd extended my empathy when I'd first got here. Kind of like a radar, I can tell where people are by listening for their emotions. I'd managed to get by for two hours sneaking around the kidnappers and planting explosives strategically throughout the place. I only had about another couple hundred meters left to the holding cell that Carter was supposedly in. I simply happen to glance up. Bingo. I see a vent above me. All I have to do is use a box of cleaning supplies to reach the vent cover. One of my knives quickly makes work of the screws holding it in place and it swings down. I toss my bag, then reach up, using my upper arm strength to pull myself up after it. It's alot harder than it sounds, and my arms are shaking by the time I manage to slide in. I pull the vent cover back closed, but it barely stays shut, since half of the screws are still missing. I don't worry about it, and make my way starboard. I barely manage to slide through the shaft, because- let's face it- I'm healthy. Not one of those 'starve yourself thin' girls. Despite being rather small around for my age, I'm athletic and fit, and it shows up as muscle, and it makes it pretty hard to slip down a small air conditioning vent that's pretty freaking cold and dark and *smelly*.

I pause as I hear a ominous squeak and creak. Damn. The part of the vent I'm in must be weakened from the war. Damn.

I can feel the presence of about five people in the corridor right below me. Their emotions don't change, I think they haven't heard me yet. Okay. That's good. I cautiously move one hand forward, preparing to pull myself slowly forward. The vent groans, the mental signatures of the people below me flare up suddenly.

And then, the whole fucking thing falls out from under me.

Damn.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Honesty**_

_**Part Three**_

Gods above, but I'm so lucky sometimes. One of the asshole kidnappers breaks my fall, and I'm heavy enough to knock the wind out of him. A good bit of the vent shaft cracks another upside the head. Only three are left standing, still pretty confused.

I roll quickly out of the way, before they can comprehend what has happened. I draw one of my laser pistols as I roll, firing off two quick shots at them. One of the shots hits the mark, the man dropping like a rock. The other misses completely, barely grazing another's shoulder. Damn, but I hate modern weapons. The other two have drawn their own laser pistols, and decide to empty their ammunition into me. Damn.

I barely manage to dodge the first volley. A lightning fast reflex has me flicking a knife from my vast armament. As expected, it found it's mark, lodging in one of the guy's throat. I think by this time, the guy I landed on is recovering, but the last man standing was quickly getting worried. I mean, in twenty seconds flat, I'd taken out four of his companions.

As I said, I'm pretty fit. Papa taught me quite a bit of martial arts, and I can easily best any other Preventer in hand to hand combat (Add lighting quick reflexes and a natural speed and grace to that list of things that makes me *special*). One guy makes the mistake of getting too close, and though he dodges the punch I throw, I drop to the ground and take out his legs with what Daddy calls a Russian Leg Sweep. I never did know where that name came from. But that one guy, the worried one, cheats. He pushes me back into the wall with sheer brute force. "Ow," I complain as my head cracks against the wall. For a split second, I feel a bit faint, but it passes. But that second was all he needed.

His gun levels at me, even as the leg swept guy regains enough brain cells to stand, draw his and do the same.

"Alright. This can be done the easy way or the hard way," Guy 1 says. I'm crouched by the wall, with two guns pointed at me and adrenaline pumping through my veins. I remember promising Daddy not to do anything rash or stupid. But considering what he did when he was my age... I think he'll forgive me.

"Daddy always said I was stubborn as my Papa," I quipped smiling. I get two confused stares in response, so I decide not to elaborate. Verbally at least.

I take a chance and bet that I can take out both of them before they kill me. I move as quick as I can, and two knives leave my hands at the same time. It takes a bout a whole second of shock before I realize that I made a mistake.

I might have just lost that bet. Maybe.

Both men drop, dead, but Guy One had been able to fire his weapon first. I stare at him in amazement as I feel the shot that hit me on the side of my abdomen, tossing me back against the wall.

I press a hand gingerly against it, and it pulls away wet and sticky with blood. A shot that should have just stunned me had left a rather large, gory burned wound. Damn. Did I mention that I hate modern weapons? From such close range, I was damned lucky he just hadn't been a better shot. Shit.

My parents are never gonna forgive me.

~*~*~*~*~*~

By some amazing fortune, that little fight didn't trigger any alarms. I retrieve my weapons, and theirs, before continuing down the corridor. There's no one nearby, expect for one faint signature up ahead, so I take a moment to bind my side and stop the already sluggish bleeding. I can't help but remember a time, long ago, when my Uncle Heero had sustained a similar wound protecting Uncle Quatre... back on-board 'Loralai'.

About ten minutes later, I arrive at the cell. It has a solid titanium door with a (once-upon-a-time) state of the art locking mechanism. No chance of simply picking it open. I break out my handy mini-laptop and manage to wire it into the electronic circuits. Damn, but I'm grateful to have a computer hacker as an uncle (and one as a father, too. Lucky me). I was able to pick up quite a few tricks from Uncle Ro... and my Daddy, of course. It takes me only about two minutes to override the door controls, and they slide open.

It's quite dark inside. I close my computer and slip it back into my pack, shouldering it again. Then I enter the holding cell.

The life sign I feel, the emotional signature, is faint and flickering, as if a candle was going out, but the green eyes that meet mine were quite alive. And full of fear, confusion, and something like hope. All emotions that sort of welled up and *hit* me in one big wave. It was really the fear that scared me most. I clearly wasn't one of his captors... so why the fear?

Damn. It only occurs to me now how I must look. I had wore a long sleeve black shirt and move-able black cargo pants for this mission, with my very curly golden hair pulled back in a braid. My braid was disheveled, with blonde curls flying every which way- probably looking something like the Medusa of myth. My shirt was ripped along a sleeve, and I had torn it off at midriff to dress my wound. I probably have various smudges of my own blood and grease from the ventilation shafts on my face, and I'm pretty sure I'm probably scowling.

I must look hideous.

"Brandon Carter?" I ask. All I receive is a skeptical look and a bare nod.

"I'm Agent Heart, Preventer Level One. Call me Trinity."

He stares at me, then slumps back against the wall. For a whole moment, I feel the way he simply basks in hope and relief, before the emotions calm back down a bit.

"Where's your backup?" He asks. His voice is rich, but hoarse from misuse, or screaming. Maybe both. I shudder at that thought.

"No backup," I say as I look at the electromagnetic cuffs used to shackle him. Pathetic things... modern technology for you. I pull out my scanner, set it to a certain frequency, and the EM field it emits makes the cuffs drop off.

"No backup," he asks, rubbing his wrists. "Preventer's sends a fifteen year old girl to rescue me? I think I should be insulted that I mean that little to them."

"Be honored," I assure him. "I'm the best of the best- and that's not bragging, either."

He stares at me for a moment, and apparently knows I'm telling the truth.

"Trinity, eh? Got a last name?"

"Maxwell-Chang," I reply. No-one can find out much by that name. The only documentation I have is the adoption papers, and that'll lead to a dead end- I love my family and our 'special' status. "Trinity Maxwell-Chang. Let's go." I pull him behind me and out into the corridor. We can take it back to a lift, and then up two levels before we'd run into any kind of trouble. He's kind of slow, but that was to be expected. (And I'm not complaining. Slow is pretty good when you've got a wound the size of L4 on your stomach.

"You're not even going to check and see whose out there? Some best you are," he gripes. I growl, and pull him along. "Preventer's latest model. Comes with built in security sensors" I tap the side of my head sarcastically. "Just do as I say and I'll get you back to your family, friends, and whatever snooty girlfriend you've got pining for you."

"I don't have a girlfriend, Miss _Maxwell-Chang_. And I'm sure you're just as ready to get back to your husband," he grumbled. "Though who let a fifteen year old girl get married is beyond me."

I barely resist the urge to slap him. Ungrateful curr.

"Listen," I growl, not stopping pulling him along, "I am not fifteen. I am seventeen. And I am not married. So shut up."

"But... Maxwell-Chang?" Hell. He actually sounds a bit confused along with the curiosity. Understandable, I realize after a moment; I'd been asked about it many times before. On L3 and L1... and many places on Earth, most combined names come from marriages, and most children have one or the other. I can almost forgive him for that. Almost.

"My father's name is Maxwell," I snip. "And my other father's name is Chang. We all have the same family name.... Maxwell-Chang."

"Oh..." he breaths and follows along quietly for a moment. His emotions die down a bit, and they don't push as hard at my shields. For a minute or two, it's almost *comfortable* (well, as comfortable as the situation could get, anyway). But then, I feel a little worry wash up.

"Are you hurt?" he asks. He motions to my side as I push him into the lift.

"It's nothing big," I lie.

"Liar," he says. Must be something in my voice, because I know I'm a good liar and people rarely call my bluffs. "How bad?"

I sigh, leaning against the wall and trying to catch my breath. Running with this kind of wound is not a good idea. "Laser pistol from three feet," I say.

The words that come out of his mouth are not as nice as my preferred 'shit' and 'damn'.

"And you're still running?"

I nodd. "Endurance training. It helps. And if you ignore the pain, it sort of goes away," I admit.

"Masochist."

"I don't get off on pain. Not my own, and not others."

"Yet you just killed at least... how many? Five, six men on your way to rescue me," he points out.

"Sadist," I mutter. "Just because I can, and just because I do... doesn't mean I like it. The first man I killed, it nearly killed me. But it was either him or me... or my father."

"How old were you?"

"Old enough to understand, but young enough not to give a damn."

"How old?"

"Six," I snarl, turning crackling amber eyes to him. I really, really don't like thinking about that instance. "Happy now? Fuckin' Sadist. Why don't you just shut the fuck up for a moment and let me do my damn job?"

His mouth snaps closed, and I sense an abrupt wave of guilt wash over him.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly.

Five minutes later, we're making our way down another corridor, ducking in and out of rooms at regular intervals to avoid people I'd rather not meet. Carter stays silent for that whole time.

We're about two hundred feet from my shuttle when things go from bad to worse. My mind hazes over for a moment, and I stumble backwards a bit.

"Trinity?" Brandon asks, hands on my shoulders to steady me. "Are you alright?"

"Peachy," I reply, my eyes closed to keep the room from spinning around. I think I may have got a concussion when my head hit the wall earlier. That certainly didn't bode well.

"Right. Even super-girl can't function with severe blood-loss," he remarks sarcastically, but the hands on my shoulders are gentle.

"I'm not super-girl," I reply weakly. "I'll be fine in a moment."

It takes a little longer than a moment, but the nausea does pass, and I can feel my empathy wanting to crash down on me. Damn dizzy spell weakened my shields. I spend a moment longer re-enforcing them, concentrating. It's a good ten minutes before I feel well enough to press forward, and we manage to make it almost all the way to the shuttle before things go from worse to 'hell in a handbasket' as my Daddy is fond of saying.

They've discovered my entry hatch, and there's at least five people in the room when me and my new charge get there.

"Damn," I mutter. I should have seen them, but stupid empathy doesn't work that well when you're *this* close to passing out from blood-loss. I move between them and Carter with a shift of my weight. At least if I die, I can take them out and get Carter into the shuttle pod. I could finish the mission.

"Stupid girl," one of the men says. "Did you really think you could pull this off?"

"No," I tell him. "I know I can pull this off, there's a difference." That damn face. I could never forget it. Those cold eyes, that greasy hair. Unlike years ago, he has a limp now- because of the metal plate in his leg. "Now, if you don't let us leave, then I'm going to have to shoot you... again."

Black eyes narrow at me. "Again?" he asks. He obviously doesn't remember me. Well, he probably *does* remember, but just can't picture this Medusa-creature with that scarily innocent looking baby angel back years ago.

"Yeah. I told you not to mess with that can, but you didn't listen. Now, you've got a metal femur and your boss is dead. Time flies, huh?"

His eyes widen in recognition.

"You..." he sputters. "You're that fuckin' *child* that shot me. You're the pint-sized bitch that killed Brag!"

"Yeah. I"m the pint-sized bitch that's gonna kill you." His gun... along with those of the four other men... rise to point at me.

"Like that's gonna stop me," I laugh before I kick out at the closest man, knocking the gun from his hands even as I duck, pulling Brandon down. My side protests the movement, but I press on. Two knives take down two guards. A shot from a liberated stun pistol takes down a third. The fourth I knee in the groin, and he's effectively disabled for a while. I'm left facing Delecroix now. His gun pointed at me, mine at him. A fair imitation of a classic stand-off.

"So, it's down to this, is it?" Delecroix asked.

I shrug, my aim not wavering an iota. Pain is radiating from my side, the bleeding has started again, and I'm pretty sure that I've bruised... if not broken, I think at the sharp pain in my chest... at least one rib. I was in bad shape. If this came down to a fight... I'm not sure I could win. My only option is finishing this before it comes to that.

"I don't want to kill you," I say. I don't. I think that I've killed enough in my quest to protect peace. Daddy tried to save me from this life. Him and Papa both... they didn't want this for me. But it was in my soul... this is what I was meant to do. Sure, I planted explosives... but only as a contingent plan, and only in case they didn't head my warnings.

"You're a lot different than that little girl all those years ago," he smirks. "Still so small, but oh so beautiful. I think that maybe I'll finish up what I wanted to do back then."

My stomach churns. My weakened shields are letting all his feelings... all those horrible, wicked, disgusting feelings. I have to end this. I have to...

Before I can even finish that thought, Delecroix sinks to the ground, stunned. I spin and look to see Brandon standing behind me, a stun pistol in his hands. He holds it like he's unsure of what it is, or how to use it.

"Bastard," he spat.

"Agreed," I say. "Can we go now? I'm feeling very.... woozy."


	4. Chapter 4

**_Honesty_**

**_Chapter Four_**

Woozy was right. It was a rather tight squeeze fitting both of us in my little pod, but Carter was a classy gentleman and squished as far back and down as possible to give me room- because of my side and ribs. It ended up with me sort of stretched out in his lap. By this point, I'm positive I've broken at least one rib, and my side is not very good. The bleeding has stopped again, but the blood-loss and possible concussion was already affecting my ability to stay awake. And the risk of infection was pretty high, considering that that place wasn't all that sanitary.

Fortunately for me, I *was* rescuing a computer system genius, so he pretty much knew how to work the shuttle controls. I pressed a small black box into his hand.

"When we're out of range... when the light on this turns orange, but before it turns red... push the button."

"What's going to happen?" He asks as he disengages us from the colony hub. I hadn't wanted to use the explosives... but I've already killed almost everyone there. And that colony hub really needs to be destroyed.

"No more Tomas Delecroix," I manage to say. "Go boom." Yeah... I'm going loopy. It's hard to stay awake, but I don't trust myself to go to sleep yet. For two reasons: a) you never know what's going to happen next. b) blood-loss plus broken ribs plus possible concussion plus sleeping.... equals not good in my book.

I drift in and out of consciousness a few times before I feel the tremor-like shock wave that meant no more colony hub... and no more Tomas Delecroix.

"Hey Carter?" My voice is a bit slurry. Damn... gotta stay awake.

"Yes?"

"Talk to me. Gotta... stay awake." I can feel the way his mind wraps around that. He's calculating exactly how bad my wounds are... his guess is the same as mine. NOT good.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Anything. Something." Something from not long ago caught my attention in my fuzzed mind. "How'd you know I was lying? Back, when I said I wasn't hurt."

"You looked like you were in pain," he said, but tensed as if not telling me the whole truth.

"Liar. That's not all. What... how?"

He sighed. "Well, you did save my life, so I guess I owe you this much at least. I'm what scientists and citizens call a new-type. I've got an ability that allows me to sense the truth in what someone says."

"Like a built in lie-detector," I hum, trying to remember to raise hell at Une for sending me into a mission under-informed. Neat ability. Now that I knew, I'd have to remember to twist my words, like Daddy so often did.

"Kinda. Will you answer a question for me now?" he asked.

"Maybe..." I manage to get out.

"You said you had built in security scanners," he reminded me of that sarcastic quip. "I didn't sense any lie in that. You were saying the truth... or, at least a version of it. What's the whole truth? The real truth?"

"New-type," I say, deciding to trust him. "Though not many people know that. I'm kinda... under.... the radar... not listed. Empathy." I'm not going to mention occasional clairvoyance or sporadic cases of limited telepathy. "Just look for the emotions... echo-location... or rather emo-location."

"Hmm," he hums. My shields are weakening with my descent into unconsciousness. But he's the only person around, and he's trying really hard to remain calm and objective about all of this. He feels a certain regret over having to blow up that place with people still in it... something I could clearly sympathize with. And he feels alot of worry for me... that's kinda sweet in a way. And there's something else. Something underneath everything else. A kind of base, instinctual kind a feeling that I recognize, sort-of.

I was seven or eight the first time I'd had a run in with the emotions involved with sex. Sure, I knew what happened and all that, and I'd felt the warm fuzziness of love and attraction... but the actual emotions that went along with getting from point A to point B, well... that was pretty funny now, but so *not* at the time. Feeling your father orgasm when you're seven years old... that was one of the drawbacks of being an empath.

I can feel that fuzziness of simple attraction, now with the absence of everything but him. It's flattering, and confusing, since I think I kind of return that attraction. When you can sense everyone's emotions, it's pretty easy to weed out all the 'bad eggs' as Uncle Quatre calls them. Unfortunately, there's always something wrong with everyone. So my experience with personal attraction and the stuff involved is nil-to-zero. Knowing that someone is *scared* of you because you're a Preventer is not good for relationships. And feeling the way someone just wants you to get into your pants... it's a real turn-off, y'know?

But this is different. I can sense the physical attraction, and the sincerity behind it. I can also feel the echo of it in me. And I can feel genuine interest from him. Not just physical-wise, but as in *me*. My abilities, my family, my past. I intrigue him. Despite my clear *un*levelheadedness, his emotions are so clear to me now, almost to that thought clarity, where specific things start to become clear to me.

An ache in my chest becomes apparent... damn broken rib... and I shift minutely, trying to ease it. That's when I feel it. It's very uncomfortable, and it's jamming me right in my hip. I shift again, but it's still there. I can feel Carter's emotions go from simple to red-hot in a second. That's odd.

"Please stop squirming," he begs, voice a little strained.

"Why?" I demand. "What is that? I though we dumped the guns back there?"

"That's not a gun," he says lightly, "and squirming's only going to make it worse."

"Huh' is probably not the most articulate thing I've ever said. But I have an excuse... y'know, the whole blood-loss thing that I'm milking for all it's worth? My mind is very slow and it takes me a very goo few minutes to connect everything and to actually *realize* what he's talking about and exactly *what* is poking me in my thigh.

"Oh," I say. Again... not the most articulate thing I've ever said.

"Sorry," he apologizes. I can sort of feel the sheepishness and humiliation rolling off of him. "It's sort of natural response," he adds. "And you're kind of... pressed up against me and..."

"Shut up," I manage to get out, my cheeks burning red. "Please just... don't apologize. I can feel that you... like me, I guess. And that it's not just the physical thing. I *feel* that from you. And yeah, I kind of guess I like you too, but right now... I just... I can't *think* straight. We'll figure everything out later." I sort of can't help it, and I shift again, and tilt my head so that it rests a bit easier on his shoulder. My shifting has moved me so that his erection rests comfortably between the cheeks of my rear. It's a *lot* closer than I've ever been to a guy, but somehow I just feel *comfortable* like this. It is sort of amusing that I'm hurt like this, he'd been tortured for who knew how long... and yet here we were, having phsyical reactions like this. And that's the last thought I had then, because my effort to stay awake fails, and I finally slip into the black of unconsciousness.

* * *

Ow.

Okay, this hurts. I can hear voices around me, but I can't really make them out because of the damn headache I have. It's horrible.

"Trin? Baby-doll? Darlin', it's Daddy. Trinity, can you hear me?"

"Da..." I try to force the word from my mouth, but it's so dry and it feels like cotton that the word just sticks and refuses to come out.

"Trinity? Mei-mei? Wake up, come on, sweetie, wake up."

It's Papa's voice. Oh, no. Papa and Daddy. How worried they must be about me! Oh, they're going to kill me for this.

"Wa...wa..." I try to blink my eyes open, and get the word out. "Wa...er."

"Here, baby," Daddy's voice says and I feel a straw against my lips. It's difficult, and hurts, but I drink and drink deeply. It doesn't taste like water... more like light apple juice. It makes me want to grin. Daddy... and Aunt Sally, my doctor... know that I like apple juice as soon as I wake up from being unconscious. And unfortunately... they've had a lot of times to learn.

"oooo...." I groan, finally managing to open my eyes. The light is dim, not bright and I can make out Daddy standing over me, his dark chestnut hair and worried violet eyes filling my vision. Suddenly, Papa's looking down at me too, looking relieved.

"Papa? Daddy? Wha.... Where.... Carter? What happened?"

Little things were coming back. I'd passed out in the shuttle... oh, dear... how'd I get here?

Daddy smiled, but frowned a little with it. "Carter followed the autopilot and brought you back to HQ. Sally and Une had us come here immediately. You've been out for two days, darlin'."

I groan. How embarassing. I pass out during the mission and have to be rescued by the person I saved.

Papa grinned, understanding the reason for my groan. "You didn't fail, mei-mei. You're here, alive. Carter is safe and un-harmed. And the enemy is defeated. You succeeded, my beautiful little girl. You completed your mission."

"I passed out..." I argued, my voice still thick.

"According to Carter you took out at least five men in hand to hand combat before you reached him," Daddy stated. "And took a shot from point-blank range..." his voice hardened, and I could tell that I'd hurt them. I must have scared them pretty bad. "And then you got him out of the cell and *ran* all the way back to the shuttle before taking out three more guys. That's quite a feat, daughter-mine."

"She's awake?" I blinked, trying to see around my parents. That voice...

He stood in the doorway. His hair wasn't so shaggy as I recalled it being. It was neat and brushed, falling to just above his shoulders. His skin didn't carry the faint bruising it had before, and his eyes were even brighter, much more alert. His shirt was a neat black, as were his slacks.

I couldn't feel anything from him... or my parents for that matter... I almost frowned, checking my shields.

They were in place, but they were very weak; I should be getting a little bit of 'leaking' through them. And I couldn't feel anything.

I look around the room to see Uncle Quatre half-sleeping on a couch against the wall, his head resting in Heero's lap.

I smile. "Uncle Quatre... you can ease up. I think I'm awake enough to take over."

Worried aqua eyes blinked open at me, a frown on his face. 'Are you certain?' the words formed in my head, like a shadow or echo of the blond's true voice. I smiled, then nodded. Occasional telepathy, remember? Mostly it's with my adoptive uncle, since our gifts are so similar. And it's easier when we're linked like this, when he's shielding me.

I can feel him slowly shrink his shields, leaving me on my own once more. I almost wince as the full weight of everyone's emotions batter against my weakened barrier. Papa and Daddy are so worried that they can't completely keep their emotions in check. I take a silent moment to compose myself and ensure my shields would hold before I looked back at Carter.

And I smile without being able to help it. He's just so happy to see my eyes open, to see me talking. He's happy I'm alive.

I close my eyes as I let the emotion wash over me; now this kind of emotion I can handle.

I sense a question in him, and I reopen my eyes.

"Uncle 'Ro? Can you please take your husband home? He needs sleep."

The brown haired man smirked at me, then nodded. He knew how hard it was for Quatre to shield two people. After ten years living with empaths... he'd certainly had time to. He scooped the smaller blond up in his arms, ignoring Uncle Quatre's 'eeps' and squeaks.

Papa watched them go, then looked at me. I raised an eyebrown, and Papa touched Daddy's arm.

"Duo... I think we should give them a moment."

"Wha...??? No, Wufei! My baby just now woke up! I am not leaving."

"Just a moment," Papa said softly. Daddy looked ready to argue, but I moved my hand to his.

"Please, Daddy?"

He growled in frustration, but his eyes and features softened. He never could say 'no' to me. "One minute, then," he sighed. "I need to talk to Sally anyway."

Carter stepped to the side ad Papa led Daddy out, then shut the door.

"I'm glad you made it," he said quietly.

I smile. "It takes more than a simple gun-shot wound to keep me down for long," I joke.

He just stares at me, then shakes his head and laughs. "Of course. I should have known. Strange thing is... you're not lying."

"I'm alot stronger than I look, Mr. Carter. And this is by far not the worst wound I've received... nor is it likely to be the last."

"I forgot that I was talking with Super-girl," he laughed, a bit of annoyance seeing in. I could tell that it didn't sit well with him, what I did. I smile brightly.

"I'm not super-girl. I'm just really, really talented. If you do something better than everyone else, why not do it so you can help people? Doing stuff like this," I shrug, "it's in my blood... in more ways than one."

"Maybe," he said, giving in and smiling. "Commander Une and several of the ESUN Council wants to give you a medal for what you did. And I... I wanted to thank you. You rescued me, you saved my life."

"In return you saved mine," I admitted. "Honestly, I think that makes us just about equals. So... how about we start all this off on the right foot? Star over? Together, as equals... on the same page?"

"I kinda liked the way we met, minus the killing parts," he joked softly, "but I understand."

He held out his hand to me. "Hello. My name's Brandon Carter, son of Lily and Nathan."

Smiling, I took his hand. A small tingle went up my arm from the contact.

"Hello, Brandon," I replied. "My name's Trinity Maxwell-Chang, daughter of Duo and Wufei. It's a pleasure to meet you."

When he smiled at me, I could forget the pain inside me, I could forget just about anything.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Trinity."

The End

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

AN: Yay! *does victory dance* And another one finished!!!! Yes!!!! There will be another Trinity/Brandon fic being posted soon. And the next chapter of Empathy as well!!! Thanks for reading!!!

And PS... everyone go check out YouTube and the video Waking Up In Vagas. It's by Animechan123 and it's a vid/trailer/advertisement thingy for my 3x4 fic Waking Up In Vegas!!!! I WUV YOU, GIRL!!! THANK YOU!!!!


End file.
